“Sir Peter said you declined to receive him.  But it is necessary that he should come to England, if his affairs are to be set straight, and also that he should see Sir Peter.”

“Come to England!” interrupted Lady Levison.  “How can he come to England under present circumstances, unless, indeed, he comes en cachette?”

“En cachette, of course,” replied Mr. Carlyle.  “There is no other way.  I have offered to let him stay at East Lynne.  He is, you may be aware, a sort of connection of Lady Isabel’s.”

“Take care that he does not repay your hospitality with ingratitude,” warmly returned Lady Levison.  “It would only be in accordance with his practice.”

Mr. Carlyle laughed.

“I do not see what harm he could do me, allowing that he had the inclination.  He would not scare my clients from me, or beat my children, and I can take care of my pocket.  A few days will, no doubt, be the extent of his sojourn.”

Lady Levison smiled too, and shook hands with Mr. Carlyle.

“In your house, perhaps, there may be no field for his vagaries, but rely upon it, where there is one he is sure to be at some mischief or other.”

This visit of Mr. Carlyle’s to Levison Park took place on a Friday morning, and on his return to his office he dispatched an account of it to Captain Levison at Boulogne, telling him he had better come over.  But now Mr. Carlyle, like many another man whose mind has its share of work, was sometimes forgetful of trifles, and it entirely slipped his memory to mention the expected arrival at home.  The following evening, Saturday, he and Lady Isabel were dining in the neighborhood, when the conversation at table turned upon the Ducies and their embarrassments.  The association of ideas led Mr. Carlyle’s thoughts to Boulogne, to Captain Levison and his embarrassments, and it immediately occurred to him that he had not told his wife of the anticipated visit.  He kept it in his mind then, and spoke as soon as they were in the chariot returning home.

“Isabel,” began he, “I suppose we have always rooms ready for visitors, because I am expecting one.”

“Oh, yes; or if not, they are soon made ready.”

“Ah, but to-morrow’s Sunday, and I have no doubt that’s the day he will take advantage of to come.  I am sorry I forgot to mention it yesterday.”

“Who is coming, then?”

“Captain Levison.”

“Who?” repeated Lady Isabel, in a sharp tone of consternation.

“Captain Levison.  Sir Peter consents to see him, with a view to the settlement of his liabilities, but Lady Levison declines to receive him at the Park.  So I offered to give him house-room at East Lynne for a few days.”

There is an old saying, “the heart leaping into the mouth;” and Lady Isabel’s leaped into hers.  She grew dizzy at the words—­her senses seemed momentarily to desert her.  Her first sensation was as if the dull earth had opened and shown her a way into Paradise; her second, a lively consciousness that Francis Levison ought not to be suffered to come again into companionship with her.  Mr. Carlyle continued to converse of the man’s embarrassments, of his own interview with Sir Peter and Lady Levison; but Isabel was as one who heard not.  She was debating the question, how she could prevent his coming?